It was late morning when Grrralph emerged from Bettyfordeth. As he trudged down the steps, his tall figure cast a long shadow that reached out into the street. Several passerby came across that dark silhouette and halted, first looking up at its source, then turning around and hastening off in the other direction having abruptly recalled some important errand which had been forgotten.

A small child was playing on the sidewalk, a few paces in front of her parents. She hopped along as she went, chanting the time-honored rhyme, "Step on a crack, break your mother's back." On her last hop, she landed square upon Grrralph's shadow. Grrralph did not turn as the child's mother screamed in pain. He had more important matters to consider.

A vacation. Perhaps a short journey. And why not? Certainly he deserved it. He worked as hard as anyone. Why not take a vacation? Of course, he had never taken one before and had little idea where to start. His former 'occupation' had not been conducive to taking personal time off. So when he began working at the Houses of Bettyfordeth it had never occurred to him to ask for a vacation. And the hospital administration, being well used to treading upon the masses (read: patients), never thought to remind him...until now.

Yes, a vacation was an excellent idea. Perhaps he would seek a second opinion concerning his...afflictions. At that moment, the sun retreated behind a cloud. Cheered, Grrralph began to whistle. A few minutes later, when a light rain began to fall, he turned his whistle into a hum. And moments later, when lightning slashed across the sky, Grrralph began to sing one of favorite songs from many years ago, before he had come to Minus Teeth. As he began his tune, he had reached a broad marketplace and many people were seeking refuge from the rain in its doorways and under its awnings. They looked on as he swept past singing:

Daggers and maces,
and bows at ten paces.
Longswords and spears,
that lay foes on biers.
Arrows on strings,
and cold golden rings,
these are a few of my
favorite things!

By this time, he was singing at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, caught up in the moment, he drew his pale blade and began spinning around with his arms outstretched. His thigh high red boots struck sparks from the pavement as he shifted into a dance.

Liver and spleen,
and kidneys between.
Muscle and tendon,
and blades with to rend them.
Lungs, hearts and hamstrings,
and eyeballs a-bouncing,
these are a few of my
favorite things!

The shoppers in the marketplace gazed in awe at the 2.4 meter tall, black-cloaked and hooded creature as he skipped and spun about the square, gleefully singing...and dancing...in the rain. His routine continued until, in the midst of a particularly expressive whirl, the tip of his blade nicked the supporting pole of a stand.

Being a particularly enchanted blade (in contrast to his morningstar which was only moderately enchanted) the pole was cut asunder and the stand tilted precariously. "Whoops!" cried Grrralph as he grabbed the stand, lifting and holding it up so that it did not topple.

Its proprietor (after taking a completely understandable moment to recover) pulled forth a magical item. Dull grey or maybe silver it was, and it was rolled about a short tube. "Look!" someone cried. "It comes in rolls!" The shopkeeper pulled a generous strip of the magical substance from the roll and wrapped it about the severed pieces of the pole, repairing it with ease. Unfortunately, this consumed the last of the magical strip. "Damn!" muttered the proprietor. "Now I gotta kill another duck."